Though France's fields went mad with flowery foam And Blanc put on a special majesty, Not all could match the growing thought of home Lovely with pictured saints and marble gods serene. REFLECTION. Rome, Florence, Venice-noble, fair and quaint, They reign in robes of magic round me here; But fading, blotted, dim, a picture faint, With spell more silent, only pleads a tear. Plead not! Thou hast my heart, O picture dim! I see the fields, I see the autumn hand Of God upon the maples! Answer Him With weird, translucent glories, ye that stand Like spirits in scarlet and in amethyst! I see the sun break over you: the mist On hills that lift from iron bases grand Their heads superb!-the dream, it is my native land. WILLIAM DOUW SCHUYLER-LIGHTHALL. CANADA. O CHILD of Nations, giant-limbed, With unanointed brow: How long the ignoble sloth, how long To front the world alone! How long the indolence, ere thou dare The Saxon force, the Celtic fire, These are thy manhood's heritage! Why rest with babes and slaves? Seek higher The place of race and age. I see to every wind unfurled The flag that bears the Maple-Wreath; Thy swift keels furrow round the world Its blood-red folds beneath; Thy swift keels cleave the furthest seas; The black smoke of thy pipes exhales. O Falterer, let thy past convince Montcalm and Wolfe! Wolfe and Montcalm! Quebec, thy storied citadel Attest in burning song and psalm O Thou that bor'st the battle's brunt At Queenstown, and at Lundy's Lane: On whose scant ranks but iron front The battle broke in vain! Whose was the danger, whose the day, On soft Pacific slopes,-beside Strange floods that northward rave and fall, Where chafes Acadia's chainless tide,Thy sons await thy call. They wait; but some in exile, some With strangers housed, in stranger lands; O mystic Nile! Thy secret yields And murmur of Canadian streams. But thou, my Country, dream not thou! CHARLES G. D. ROBERTS. WHAT IS THE GERMAN'S FATHERLAND? WHAT is the German's fatherland? Is it Prussia, or the Swabian's land? Must be the German's fatherland! What is the German's fatherland? Must be the German's fatherland! What is the German's fatherland? Must be the German's fatherland! What is the German's fatherland? Must be the German's fatherland! What is the German's fatherland? Ah! Austria surely it must be, Oh no! more grand Must be the German's fatherland! What is the German's fatherland? Must be the German's fatherland! What is the German's fatherland? Brave German, that thy fatherland! That is the German's fatherland! Where binds like oak the claspèd hand, Where truth shines clearly from the eyes, And in the heart affection lies. Be this the land, Brave German, this thy fatherland! That is the German's fatherland! Where scorn shall foreign trifles brand, Where all are foes whose deeds offend, Where every noble soul's a friend: Be this the land, All Germany shall be the land! |